


Roles Reversed

by ChristineThalassinou1990



Series: Pages of Our Friendship [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Healing Magic, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Magic, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineThalassinou1990/pseuds/ChristineThalassinou1990
Summary: It's usually Brynjolf who helps the others, but sometimes he's the one who needs a little help.
Relationships: Brynjolf & Mercer Frey
Series: Pages of Our Friendship [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020616
Kudos: 8





	Roles Reversed

Mercer was dozing lightly, sprawled on his bed in the Guild master's room, when the nearby sound of uneven, loud footsteps jerked him out of his nap. He guessed it was late morning, for the Cistern was quiet, and he didn't hear any noise from the Flagon, either, meaning that Vekel had already retreated for the day. Mercer listened, and from the irregular pattern of the sound he assumed that the person was limping, pretty badly, actually.

The Breton sighed and got up to check on the supposedly injured member; he had sufficient healing magic even for broken bones, and it seemed that right now, he was the only one awake and close enough to help. As he opened his door and looked around in the hallway, he almost instantly spotted his redhead second-in-command Brynjolf leaning against the wall and apparently trying to catch his breath. His posture was awkward, for he was desperate to keep any weight off his left side, however, Mercer didn't see any obvious injury, no open wounds, no blood, thank Nocturnal.

"Bryn? What's wrong?" the Guild master asked, walking closer; he knew that he wouldn't be much of help if he had to carry the Nord, Brynjolf was taller and much heavier than him, almost two meters of pure muscle.

In a hand-to-hand combat, Mercer wouldn't have lasted a minute against him.

"Oh, hello, boss" Brynjolf grinned at him; at least tried to but it was more like a painful grimace. "Hope you have a nice morning?"

Mercer bit back the beginning of a smile in the corner of his mouth; that was Brynjolf, always looking out for the others' well-being, even if his own wasn't that great at the moment.

"It would definitely be nicer if I knew what happened to my second-in-command that he looks like someone's beaten the shit out of him..."

Brynjolf let out a deep sigh.

"It's nothing like that, just... The market's almost entirely frozen over, ice's everywhere, and I slipped and landed pretty badly, it seems" he confessed. "But I'm sure it's nothing serious, don't worry."

Mercer just arched an eyebrow, glaring at the redhead, who was still using the wall for support, with a pointed look. Brynjolf wasn't quite willing to meet his gaze.

"Let me check it anyway" Mercer finally said and supported the limping Nord to his own room; it was the closest to them.

Fortunately, Brynjolf was wearing only simple clothes, not his Guild armour, which fact made it much easier to get him stripped to underwear so Mercer could take a good look at his injuries.

"It's not that bad, it just looks very ugly..." the Breton muttered as he activated his restoration magic and healed first his friend's sprained and swollen ankle then went on to the purple-blue bruises on his thigh and hip.

"Thanks, I love you, too" Brynjolf chuckled, watching the faint orange sparkles dancing on the Guild master's hands.

Despite being a Breton, Mercer using magic was a somewhat rare occurrence. As far as Brynjolf knew, he'd never received formal magical training, all his existing amount of control and knowledge came from other sources, like a two-year-long stay with the Dark Brotherhood's own magic users. Still, he seemed to think of magic as a last resort.

Mercer made a painstaking effort to heal even the smallest grazes, but Brynjolf was very much aware of the fact that magic wasn't without limits, not even for the greatest wizards, and definitely not for Mercer. So when he noticed perspiration on his friend's forehead and the slight trembling of his hands, he grabbed those hands and held them firmly.

"Stop, Merce, I'm okay" he said gently, and Mercer looked up at him.

"Sure?" he asked, just a little bit suspicious.

"Yeah. It doesn't hurt anymore, I can walk, that's all that matters. Don't exhaust yourself further, I'm fine."

"Right. But... it was nice to help you for a change. It's usually you dragging me out of any shit I get myself into" Mercer said with a half-smile, and Brynjolf grinned back.

"Plot twist, I guess" he shrugged. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast."

The Nord put his clothes back on, and the two thieves went to hunt down some food from Vekel's storage room.

**The End**


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